The two SPARTANs checked their weapons and stacked up at the door. Mark hit the hologram to open the door and found himself and Ethan greeted with a platoon of enemy infantry.

They rushed out and took cover as the air became filled with pink crystalline needles, and emerald and sapphire plasma bolts. The stiletto projectiles alternately embedded themselves in the claret alloy the Covenant were so fond of and bounced off it. The energy from their weapons splashed on the metal and sizzled through the air on their paths.

Ethan activated his holograms and rolled out, spraying his assault rifle and felling several of the aliens. Mark threw a grenade, which coaxed more enemies from cover and killed several of those who hadn’t moved. The injured and exposed were picked off by precise fire from his DMR, one at a time in most cases, and in rapid succession in the case of the Grunts.

The Elites and Jackals had their shields either disabled by heavy fire or shot out of the way respectively. The leaders were riddled with bullets and sprayed an indigo ichor from their bodies, and the avians were literally torn apart by the weapons fire. Several plasma grenades landed on the ground, which Mark shot to detonate them and kill any Covenant standing near them.

The smoke and plasma cleared, and the supersoldiers were the only ones left standing.

“Move up,” Mark ordered. Ethan took point, as his weapons were more effective at close range than his commander’s, especially in the case of his shotgun.

They repeatedly mowed down waves of enemy soldiers as they moved through the narrow and winding halls of the ship, which prolonged their path to the bridge, which would’ve been much shorter had the path been a straight shot to their objective. By the time the two reached the door to the bridge itself, they were panting from the extensive amount of high-intensity combat they’d already engaged in.

They reloaded their weapons and readied themselves to storm the bridge. They’d seen the inside of a CCS-class battlecruiser before, and they knew the layout of the bridge. It would be an architecturally simple affair, with two trench-like pits filled with equipment and control panels running parallel underneath a large platform surrounded by holographic interfaces. Seating was optional, and in some cases there would be more stations around the room. Either way, the High-Value Target would be in an elevated, easily visible position.

Ethan loaded a few shells into his shotgun and pumped it. “Orders?”

“It breathes, it dies. Opening in three…” He began counting down with his fingers, and when he made a fist he used it to pound the control panel to open the door. The blast-resistant bulkhead moved and a pair of frag grenades flew inside, detonating in either trench of the room. It seemed that the crew was barebones, because there were only the two trenches of personnel, and the HVT on the elevated platform.

The Elite tapped a holographic button just before his attackers opened fire. The armor-piercing rounds impacted a shield around the position, harmlessly flattening on the energy field. They both emptied their magazines into the shield to no avail, and Rolo’Duronee laughed at their attempts as they reloaded.

“Did you fools really think killing me would be that easy?” He asked smugly, an emotion apparent even through the translation software in their helmets. He wore a gold-orange variant of the Elite Ranger armor, which masked whatever expression was the Elite equivalent of smug.

“You’re finished. In a few minutes this ship is gonna be another addition to an orbital graveyard.”

“Really? Because I have thirteen of your minutes to take care of the bombs your compatriots planted. They really should leave now, for their own good. In four minutes, this ship will begin to come apart at the seams as the device you humans call ‘Modular Dispersal Technology’ separates this vessel into three sections. ”

“Raptor, their battlenet says they just activated their MDT system,” Jason told him over their comms, alarmed. “Recommend you and Maverick regroup ASAP.”

“I now only need to touch the surface of the planet to activate the invasion’s second phase. We haven’t been staying idle in the frozen north for no reason, sending out only small units to harass your forces and using this planet’s politics against your fleet to preventing them from ending mine. I’ve been changing the rules entirely. I am now closer to godhood than even the San ‘Shyuum could ever hope to be.” He de-polarized his visor to reveal that his skin was paler than most of his kind, and his eyes glowed a faint red. “The blood of the Forerunners now runs in my veins. When I set foot on land, Equis itself will recognize me as an Inheritor, and give me control over the long-dormant armies of the Gods that lie beneath the surface. With the infusion of resources and followers this planet offers me, I will take lead of the remnant factions and this world to form a new, more powerful Covenant, one lead by the Sangheili!”

He threw his hands up in the air and looked to the ceiling. A hologram of the Milky Way galaxy appeared, and fell into his oustretched fingers.

Mark glanced at his teammate, a grim feeling coming over him. “Ethan, get to the Pelican, get out of here,” He said over their private comms. “That’s a direct order,” He continued as Ethan’s body language indicated he was forming a response.

“I can’t let you do this.”

“Ethan, I want you to know that you and Jason have been like brothers to me for almost as long as I’ve known you. You’re the only family I’ve had for most of my life, but I couldn’t have asked for a better one. Take care of Twilight for me, tell her to remember her promise even if I couldn’t carry through with mine.”

“…Good luck, Mark.” Ethan raced out of the room and from the sight of both Mark and Rolo.

“Jason, when Ethan gets to the Pelican, I need you to load up and get the team out of here. I have some unfinished business to attend to,” Mark ordered over his comms.

A minute later, he got a response while he was trying to bash his way through the shield protecting Rolo.

“Sir, Ethan’s on board, you can still make it,” Jason told him.

It was less than a minute before the ship would break apart, not enough time.

“You need to get out of here, now! I can’t make it, but I can make sure this invasion doesn’t happen, now move it!”

“Yes sir…” A few moments later, he got another message. “We’re out. Godspeed, Mark.”

Not a moment after he finished, the ship rumbled as it separated. The door to the bridge shut, and he felt the bridge heave from the ship itself, as if it had become a single spacious drop pod.

“And now the descent begins, and soon the Covenant will be reborn!”

Mark smashed even harder against the force field between him and Rolo, his kicks now dimming the light from it with each successive hit. He felt his section of the ship enter the atmosphere, and magnetized his boots to stay stable during the vicious shaking. Finally, he managed to break the barrier, just as his target was entering a single occupant drop pod.

“Now I leave this vessel for a glorious destiny. But you… You will be consumed by the storm…”

The drop pod sealed shut and fell through the floor of the bridge, a path having opened for the vehicle to travel through.

Mark ran after him and holstered his weapon, then dived headfirst through the two-meter wide passage, falling through it and into the atmosphere. He was now skydiving from the upper atmosphere without any way to slow his descent.

He tightened his limbs and held them together to minimize drag, increasing his speed. He steadily caught up with the drop pod, and when he closed enough he grabbed onto it with his right hand.

The SPARTAN activated the energy sword in his left gauntlet and sliced open the coffin-shaped vehicle, only to be tackled by Rolo ‘Duronee as he leapt out of his now-ruined pod.

“Insolent puppy!” He roared. The Fleet Master drew his own energy sword and swung it at his attacker. The swipe was dodged cleanly, and the follow up was parried.

Blocking an attack with his own sword, the soldier was sent flying several meters through the air, which the Elite quickly closed. Glancing at his HUD, he saw that his altitude was ten kilometers above sea level, and that he and his opponent would fall into the sea, not far from Equestrian shores.

He knew the Elite’s superior shielding would allow him to survive that impact, and that he could make it to land from there. The olive-clad man wasn’t too sure about his own chances.

Rolo slashed at Mark, the close proximity of his blade stripping away half of his shields. He kicked away the attacker and oriented himself for his own offensive as he noticed an aurora in the night sky, to the east.

Mark leaned forwards to fall towards his opponent and readied for a slash.

An explosion overhead coming from the plummetting bridge distracted Rolo, long enough for Mark to strike. He was parried, and the Elite grabbed his left forearm, and he grabbed his opponent’s own left arm. Now neither of them could strike, as they each struggled with each other’s grip.

“Why do you persist when you know this is futile?” Duronee spat. “The UNSC was too pathetic to eliminate us when we were an easy target! Humanity is a blight upon the galaxy, and yet you SPARTANs, the most unparalleled group of alien warriors I’ve ever seen, are too meek to lead your kind to any greater future. You insist on defending inferior beings, reporting to those you know are less than your equals. Why do you insist on defending humanity when they are doomed and your efforts are meaningless!?”

“You think I’m doing this for humanity?”

Mark headbutted his opponent, stunning him enough to loosen the alien’s grip. He pulled back his left arm and swung, only to take a kick to the chest and have his blow parried.

“Then you do this out of vengeance?”

“No!” He angled his body for a controlled swoop and flew down upon the Fleet Master. He slashed off the Elite’s sword hand and grabbed his shoulder to hold him still. “I’m doing this for something far greater than any of that that!”

Mark shoved his sword as far into his opponent as he could, until his knuckles touched the howling creature’s rib cage. Red-violet blood boiled from the wound, showing that Rolo had indeed altered his genetic makeup. He kicked off of the corpse and ripped his blade from the lifeless chest.

“I did this for her.”

Now only a little under a kilometer above the ocean, Mark prepared himself for death. For his eternal damnation. Then he closed his eyes and waited.

The last thing he felt was an enormous impact across the front of his body.

***

From the passenger bay of their Pelican, the SPARTANs and ODSTs who’d just raided the enemy’s flagship cheered as they heard the news of the remaining Covenant fleeing the system after being contacted by an unknown Elite from elsewhere in the galaxy.

It was over. The war was finished. The invasion halted. The Remnant’s leader was dead by Mark Thompson’s last act, as the Fleet Master’s IFF signal had ceased transmitting a few kilometers above Equis.

Humanity and ponykind were finally victorious.

Author's Note

Mark... Had a hard life...